


Master

by orphan_account



Category: Cain Saga and Godchild
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-10
Updated: 2008-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-14 10:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: From the Olympic Kink Meme. Cain wants Riff to be the master.





	Master

It was an unspoken taboo between them, crossing that line. It was funny how two people could share everything except that. Riff dressed him, bathed him, fed him. Riff was his shoulder to cry on, his best friend – and his servant, _always_ his servant. Perhaps someone from outside would say that it was unbalanced, that the relationship was one-sided – and perhaps they were right – but this was just the natural order of things, man and servant, Cain and Riff.

And yet, Riff's hands were so careful as he scrubbed Cain's back, over each scar, one by one, careful not to be too gentle, lest it be taken as a caress. Cain's head turned imperceptibly, watching Riff out of the corners of his eyes, almost wanting Riff to cross that line – because Cain couldn't be the one to cross it, of course. If he so wanted, he could command Riff to do anything he pleased and Riff would do it without hesitation – but that wasn't the way Cain wanted it to be, it wouldn't feel _right._

As Riff worked from Cain's shoulders down to his lower back, Cain wasn't sure whether he dreaded or anticipated the moment that may or may not happen. He didn't give any hints, though, kept his breathing even – Riff was too good at picking up those little cues, taking Cain's unspoken whims as commands. Cain just watched Riff's face, looking for the tiniest change in expression, a change that would signal – what, exactly? And Riff had seen it all before, seen every single part of Cain both inside and out – why would now suddenly be different from all the hundreds of times he'd seen his master nude? Perhaps Riff simply wasn't interested in that way.

It was rather silly, at the end of the day – he had all of Riff, every single part, without taking anything physically. If he wanted to satisfy himself, there were dozens of women just dying to throw themselves at him. This was just a whim, nothing more – any meaning sex could have would be completely eclipsed by what they already shared.

But still. Riff drew his hands away, and Cain's shoulder's dropped an inch. There was a mild disappointment there, yes.

Cain's head turned at the sound of the sponge dropping onto the floor. Riff was toeing his shoes off and then – he got into the bath with Cain, clothes on and all.

There was plenty of room for them both, but Cain made room anyway, backing up as Riff leaned forward through the bubbles. Riff didn't say anything – no names, no sweet nothings – it would be meaningless, anyway, they both knew what they were doing. Riff just grabbed Cain's hand as he pushed Cain to the back of the bathtub, twining his fingers with Cain's as his other hand explored Cain's torso, running under the waterline to find Cain's bellybutton, almost tickling, before passing lower.

Cain was already hard by the time Riff got there, had been hard since the beginning – but he didn't move, he simply lay back and let Riff take control as Riff's hand stroked him, gentle, always gentle, but this gentleness made Cain shiver and arch. Riff never let go of Cain's hand as his touch changed from caress to pump and Cain's breaths changed from shallow to gasping.

Like any good servant, Riff made sure Cain came first, shooting his come into the soapy water before Riff brought Cain's hand to his own erection, straining against his waterlogged slacks. Riff wanted it, wanted him, this was proof, and that thought heated Cain more than the water or Riff's hand ever had.

Riff pulled him out of the water and onto the cold floor, then, pulling a bottle of oil from the bathroom cabinet on the way. Cain shivered against the tile, the quick change from hot to cold, the ground cool beneath him and Riff warm above him. Riff's white dress shirt was soaked, the front unbuttoned low and the cuffs rolled up, the entire thing translucent, showing the firm outline of Riff's torso.

Riff poured some oil into his hands and rubbed them together to warm it before touching Cain, invading slowly with his fingers. Cain wanted to complain, tell Riff to go faster, stop babying him – but if he did that then the balance would be broken, here, and all of this would have been for nothing. As it was, it was good enough, Riff's hands pressing inside him and arousing him all over again, seeking, and then withdrawing.

Cain looked up as Riff struggled with his wet pants, but he didn't move to help – it took some undignified wriggling but soon enough Riff was free and arching over Cain, moving to press inside of him.

Cain was passive save for the odd gasp and writhing motion as Riff fucked him and pumped him – on one level, it was as it always had been, with the servant pleasing the master, but on another level Riff was holding the power of pleasure over him, and that was something new, something heady. Feeling Riff inside of him – that was also new, along with the contortion of Riff's face during orgasm, the halting breaths that emerged from his servant's lips. Riff came before Cain came a second time, breaking the rule of a servant taking his pleasure first, and Cain didn't even mind, too focused as he was at the feel of Riff's hand on his cock and Riff's lips on his neck, almost apologetic, making up for it.

The bathwater had gone cold, and Cain had no desire to return to it. He had Riff clean up the mess and dry him off once they were done.

As satisfied as he was, he couldn't forget the look in Riff's eyes at the end, right before he came – no matter who appeared to be in control, Riff's gaze was one of servitude, and Cain had only been commanding Riff to be the master for an evening.

 


End file.
